


and forgive us our sins (even if we don't forgive those who sin against us)

by schoolboys



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 13:45:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5050786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schoolboys/pseuds/schoolboys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>post belgian gp 2014. mercedes decides that nico needs to be disciplined. as team principal, toto takes action.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and forgive us our sins (even if we don't forgive those who sin against us)

'He needs to be disciplined.'

Lewis' words ring in your ears. The team should have never tried team orders, on Lewis, no less. What were they thinking? This is not 2013 with Ross helming the pit wall and the chief concern is mere points. This is 2014 with the goddamn championship to play for.

On hindsight, you can see the appeal. Somewhat. German driver winning in a German car, yet another sporting feat for Germany, more joy after winning the World Cup... But your job is not to think short term. Your job is to think beyond.

 _Star catch Lewis Hamilton delivers in his second season with Mercedes! Niki Lauda's right decision! Hamilton's triumphant return as a double world champion powered twice to victory by Mercedes!_ This is what the team needs, and it should have been clear to you right from the beginning.

But at the back of your mind you remember Nico with his cheeks flushed and rosy in the dim light, and he had smirked with that ridiculous expression of his and whispered something filthy in your ear, one hand placed gingerly on your thigh. In German, of course, and you tell yourself that the lingering feeling of discomfort you had about that moment is not from how you had not taken him up on his offer, but rather, the strange lilt of his accent that did not quite belong.

And now you think of his offer, the invitation he had given you back then. You are here in a director's meeting in Brackley discussing how you should enforce discipline within your team and it is dragging on and on and on and if you had a conscience, you would highlight how there were hardly any consequences for Lewis when he had disobeyed orders from the pit wall, and that contingency plan the team had put together so quickly after Monaco at the possibility of Lewis crashing into Nico. But you tell yourself that that is different, and Niki had come to Lewis' defence immediately anyway — Lewis' outrage had been justified, and Nico... Forget Nico, there had been a desperation to protect the brand name that was placed higher on the team's list of priorities above Nico. See, Good Guy Mercedes wants their drivers to race, Good Guy Mercedes wants to entertain the fans and give them what they want to see and Good Guy Mercedes is so very sorry that it had to come to all this. Of course, dealing with Nico had to come after the dust from all that had settled, and now that it has come to this, perhaps you had messed up somewhere. Perhaps it had not been enunciated clearly enough to Nico just exactly where he stands within the team.

'We need to come to a decision.'

You look up sharply, roused from your reverie. Paddy murmurs something incoherent, and next to you, Niki makes a noise of disapproval. The thought still lingers in your head and you can see that vision of Nico oh so clearly — cheeks flushed, coming on to you, words low and dirty falling so easily from those sinful lips. And you have seen the way he looks at people in the paddock, and you have seen the way they look at him and how he returns the gaze, relishes it even and you cannot help but wonder, what if, what if...

'Well?'

You clear your throat noisily, and the members of the board turn to look at you, silent. Nico's words echo in your ears, and you take a deep breath, saying 'I have an idea.'

 

 

Nico shows up right on time. He looks worse for wear, the dark circles around his eyes more pronounced than usual and some part of you thinks that he deserves this, for all the shit he has put the team through for the past few days. But you force the words down as he takes a quick look around, eyes flickering back to look at you soon enough. 'Toto?'

'Come in,' you say. In German, of course, now that you are alone. You speak in English only when there are others around, a translation of your conversation mostly for Lewis' and/or Paddy's benefit. You cock your head in the direction of the door, and he closes it behind him. It clicks shut, and the sound echoes in the room.

He stands by the door, unsure of where to go. His eyes remain fixed on the camera, mounted on a tripod behind you. 'Are we going to film an apology to the team?' he asks, voice uneasy.

You lick your lips. 'Something like that,' you say. You lean forward, hands clasped on the desk in front of you. 'Do you remember that one night after the race, when you approached me, drunk?'

All colour seems to drain from his face, and you smile in hollow triumph. He looks at you, eyes assessing, but he does not speak.

You get up, leaning over the desk. You support yourself with one hand on the desk, and you reach to cup Nico's cheek with your other hand. His skin is soft beneath your fingertips, and he is cleanly shaven. Looking just like that beautiful boy with his hair curling up just so above his collar, as always. You press down, and you do not miss his attempt to hide how he flinches. 'You'll make good on that offer, won't you?'

 

'Strip,' you order.

Nico looks at you with something indiscernible in his eyes. Resentment? Shame? Lust? He makes quick work of his clothes, discarding his team t-shirt and jeans quickly. Your gaze drops down to his cock, half hard between his legs. _Lust then_ , you decide.

Behind you the camera rolls. 'Come here,' you say. You sit with your legs spread apart, and you gesture to the space between your thighs. He obeys mutely, and you reach between you, undoing the button on your trousers. You pull out your cock, looking up at him. 'Suck.'

He looks at you, tongue darting out to wet his lips, those sinful lips that should be on your cock right now. 'What will you do if I don't?' he asks, but he drops to his knees anyway when your gaze hardens. 'Replace me?' There is a quiet challenge in his voice. You push his head down in reply, and he ends up with your cock pressed to his cheek.

'You know what you've done. And we will do with you as we see fit about your slip ups. But you know what to do, don't you? This is your apology,' you say, pulling at his hair. He lets out a soft whine but soon enough he has his lips around your cock, and you yank hard at his hair when you feel his teeth. He cries out and you thrust deeper into him. His mouth is hot and heavenly, just as you have always thought it would be. All those nights you had spent awake with your face in your pillow, hand shoved down your boxers jerking off thinking of how it would have been like with him. Now you know.

And really, if you could, you would come in his mouth, have him swallow and taste you. Or you would come all over his pretty face, watch as he winces and tries to avoid getting it in his eyes. But not today. Today there is something more important, and you tug at his hair once more. He looks up at you in alarm and oh, there are tears at the corners of his eyes. You reach to wipe them away with your thumb, but it does little to change his expression.

'Get up.'

He does, and by then you can see that his cock is fully hard now, nipples erect. Just like the rumours had said, he is such a slut for cock. You motion towards the table.

'Prepare yourself.'

He looks at you, like he is about to ask for something but you stay where you are.

'But if you're ready like this-'

'No,' he says hastily, cutting you off. He braces himself against the table, drawing his legs up before he spits on his fingers and you watch him. But then his eyes flicker up suddenly, remembering the camera and he scrambles to his feet. His cheeks are flushed and he turns, sticking his arse out, preparing himself from behind instead. You watch him finger himself, trying to suppress his little grunts and moans and god, you wish he would just hurry up already.

'Come on,' you say, getting up. You slap his arse lightly, and he lets out a cry. 'Not this way,' you say, gripping his hips. You get him to move so that he is facing the camera, and you bend him over the table, spreading his arsecheeks.

'I _must_ do this,' he says, turning back to face you. It is both a statement and a question, and his cheeks are flushed and he looks like he is about to cry, so utterly debauched.

You reach for him, wrapping a hand around his hard cock. 'You _want_ this, don't you?' you ask, and he gasps when you rub your fingers against his leaking slit.

'I,' he begins, but his words die when you rub the slick on your fingertips against his entrance. He jerks against you, what a greedy little slut, so eager for you to fill him up already. His body speaks for him, even as he tries to act all innocent with his words.

And really, the logical thing for you to do would be to use a condom because god only knows how many people Nico has slept with over the years. But you do not. You push into him, raw, and he screams when you enter him. See, there is no point if he is not facing the camera — it needs to capture how he looks like as you pound his arse. It turns him on anyway, judging from how aroused he already is as he writhes underneath you, gasping and making those breathy little moans, full of incoherent syllables as you fuck him.

Is he crying? You cannot tell, he lets out choked sobs and mewls that sound like both pleasure and pain. He is so much better than you have imagined, so much better than anyone you have ever had. He squirms underneath you, god he has to be enjoying this from how he clenches around you like he's desperate for you to fill him, so fucking hot and tight around your cock and it is unbelievable. Almost as if he is a virgin, taking someone up his arse for the first time.

The thought of you being his first is what sends you over the edge. You pull out, coming all over his arse. You have marked him, you think as you catch your breath. He lies on the table, still as you right your clothing, pulling up your trousers.

'Nico,' you say, shaking his shoulder lightly. He gets up from his position, movements slow. His stomach is sticky and there is a telltale mess on the table. From him, of course. A warm sort of feeling spreads through you. Triumph, perhaps. After all, what can be better evidence to show that he had enjoyed what you just had?

 

You tell Nico that he can go after you turn off the camera.

Nico looks at you like he does not even know what to do, and you frown, handing him his clothes.

'That will be all,' you say, pushing his clothes into his hands.

You do not talk about his apology after this.

 

Nico is avoiding you. It is Saturday in Monza, and apart from team briefings, he goes out of his way to make sure his interactions with you are minimal.

You should probably address it. Perhaps he is ashamed to admit that he had enjoyed your tryst back at Brackley. Perhaps he wants more, but he does not know how to ask. But whatever it is, there are more pressing matters you have to attend to.

Namely, Lewis.

 

Nico backs off in during the race. You heave an inward sigh of relief — you have everything back under control once again.

Even as they boo Nico on the podium, there are smiles all round in the garage. The maximum points haul for the team is all that matters and of course, the fact that it is _Lewis_ up there on the top step makes all this even better.

When Nico returns to the garage later you put your arm around him in congratulations. He looks up at you with something in his eyes that you do not quite understand, like your touch burns him.

'You're on good form,' Niki says to Nico, and Nico smiles ever so slightly.

'Looks like your meeting with Toto worked wonders,' Paddy quips, and Nico freezes.

'Maybe you need more sessions with Toto,' Niki says, chuckling. They both look at you, but you do not return their looks. Your eyes are on Nico instead, who looks like he is trying to shrink inwards underneath your touch.

'Maybe,' Nico says. He looks like he is about to faint as he shrugs your arm off his shoulders. 'Excuse me.'

'Nico?' you ask, frowning.

'Leave him,' Niki says to you in German. Paddy looks at you, questioning, but you shake your head. 'What did you do? He's completely obedient now.' Niki snorts, and that look that he always has before he makes a distasteful joke comes over his face. 'Just like a-'

'I did what I said I would do,' you cut in quickly, but the truth is, you are not too sure any more.

 

What you thought had happened is not congruent with the footage from the camera.

That flirtation you had heard in Nico's voice is gone. All there is is fear and caution — a display of bravado, perhaps. He trembles as he undresses before you, and he looks down in shame, as he presents his arousal to you after he sucks you off. And when you fuck him he struggles against you, whimpering _no please no please stop_ over and over again.

You stop the film, clutching at your stomach. You barely make it to the bathroom to throw up.

 

Car number 6 fails in Singapore. Everything had been alright during qualifying and when the car had gone into parc ferme. It had gone through the warm up laps perfectly fine until the formation lap. There is a flurry of activity on the pit wall, with Nico being advised to try different configurations on the car to see if anything can be done about it. He starts from the pit lane instead as the team tries to figure something out and he struggles to even keep up with the Caterhams and Marussias as the race begins.

A few laps in, you retire the car.

 

When Nico gets out of the car you go over to see him. The pit wall can live without you for a bit, Paddy can and _will_ hold the fort while you are gone anyway.

'I'm sorry,' you say in German, pulling him close. He places his hands on your back, or at least, he places them close enough for it to look like he is returning your hug to everyone else.

'Don't be,' he replies in English. He shrugs off your embrace and he looks up at you with a tight smile. 'I know my place now.' Then he turns, heading to the media pen.

There are things you should say. Things you _could_ say to that. But the words do not come, and you are left staring at his retreating figure with the sinking feeling that god, you fucked up and there is no way you can fix this.

**Author's Note:**

> written for [thegameseason](http://thegameseason.livejournal.com). beta by [ellie_mayflower](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ellie_mayflower).


End file.
